In the Eye of the Beholder
by JamesLuver
Summary: Anna and John enjoy the sight of each other early in the morning. Prompted by anon on Tumblr.
1. In the Eye of the Beholder

**A/N:** Prompted by anon on Tumblr.

I had a very similar request for the other way around, so rather than posting it separately, I'll post it as a second chapter here. There's not really any M-rated content here; I just used that rating for safety.

**Disclaimer:** _Downton Abbey_ is not mine.

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_In the Eye of the Beholder_

_1. In the Eye of the Beholder_

If there was one thing that Anna prided herself for, it was that she was a sensible person. Sometimes she let her heart rule her head, but for the most part she was sensible. The decisions that she made recklessly were borne of logical reasons – most prominently, her declaration that she would become John's mistress, and her resolve to marry him, sprang to mind. Each time, she had known that while others would see her resolutions as stupid, she had made the right choices for her heart. If John had accepted her proposal, she would have been overjoyed to know that they were properly together in every way. In the end, her decision to marry John had proved to be prudent.

Yes, she had always been practical.

So that was why it was frustrating that she felt _embarrassed_ undressing in front of her husband. It wasn't as if he had never seen her naked before. They had made love so many times over the course of their short time in the cottage, each time more exciting and blissful than the one before, and each time he had run his hands all over her, kissing every inch of skin that he could get his mouth on. In the heat of passion, nothing made her happier than knowing that she was pleasing him.

In the broad light of day, however, she felt a little differently. The light threw each inch of her skin into harsh reality, and she couldn't hide herself from his gaze.

He was doing it now, his eyes roving over her intensely, propped up on his elbow as she flitted about the room. She had already ordered him to get up, aware that they needed to be at Downton soon, but he seemed content to continue lying there, favouring watching her dress over getting himself ready.

"John, stop staring," she told him firmly. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"You, uncomfortable?" he chuckled teasingly. "I can't imagine Anna Bates _ever_ being uncomfortable!"

She flushed, not joining in. When he stared at her, it made her think of all of her flaws. Of her too-small breasts. Of her bony hips. Of her short legs. If John stared at her for too long, he would notice them. And then they'd be the only things that he would ever notice again. She didn't want that.

She dropped her shawl to the floor and lifted the hem of her nightgown. If she did it quickly, he wouldn't have time to register those parts of her. She _could_ do it quickly. She'd had enough practise dressing the girls over the years –

But before she could begin to draw the nightgown up and over her head, she felt a large, warm hand clasp gently around her wrist. John had moved, now leaning out of their bed, regarding her with dark, watchful eyes.

"You're not really uncomfortable, are you?" he asked her, his eyes searching hers.

She scuffed her feet uneasily. She couldn't lie. Not to him.

The silence stretched on, and he took it as an affirmative. Slowly, he let out a deep breath, pulling her gently back towards the edge of the bed. She complied willingly enough, and he shuffled so that he was sitting next to her. She tried not to stare at his own nakedness – that would be very hypocritical of her.

"Anna, I'm sorry," he told her softly. "I had no idea. I thought you didn't mind."

She hated hearing him apologising to her, when none of it was his fault. "Don't be sorry. I never want you to feel like that."

His arm came to rest around her waist. "All the same, I should have paid more attention to how it was making you feel. I was selfish and didn't stop to think beyond my own enjoyment."

"It's not you," she protested. "It's me. I'm just being silly. I shouldn't be embarrassed."

"So why are you?" he said tentatively. "You're a beautiful woman. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

She twisted her hands together, self-conscious, saying nothing. She didn't need to. Even when she was silent, her husband understood her completely.

"You don't think that you are," he stated. "That's it, isn't it?"

She glanced up at him helplessly. "Well, there are aspects of me that I wouldn't mind changing."

He looked incredulous. "Like what?"

"Do I really need to answer that?" she muttered, feeling her cheeks flush. "There are just parts of me that I wish could please you more."

"Anna, believe me, I don't want you any different than you already are."

"But surely you must see what's wrong with me when you look at me?"

He shook his head firmly. "I see perfection."

"You mean that? You wouldn't change me at all? Not even to be a little bit taller, or a little bit…fuller?" She was ashamed to find her voice wavered dangerously when she spoke, and that her vision was a little glassy.

"I wouldn't change you for the world," he told her quietly, pressing his lips lingeringly against her temple. "Not one tiny inch of you. I don't know what you see when you look at yourself, Anna Bates, but I want you to start seeing what _I_ see. An incredibly strong, beautiful woman, who is afraid of nothing. I love you so much."

"I love you too," she said, turning in to bury her face against his neck. He held her tight for a moment, before pushing her away just slightly.

"Get back into bed and take your nightgown off," he told her softly.

Anna's eyes widened at his order. "What? John, we don't have time for things like that! We have to get to work!"

He looked sick at the idea of being late for a moment, before his eyes focused back on her determinedly. "We'll only be five minutes late if we don't bother with breakfast. And reassuring you is more important right now."

She shuddered at the heated look in his eye, then did as she was told, clambering back beneath their still-warm sheets and sliding off her nightgown. John slid off the end of the bed and limped around to the window, throwing open the curtains. Sunlight streamed in, setting their bed on fire. Slowly, he turned back towards her. The look in his eyes was breath-taking.

"I'm going to tell you how much I love every single part of you," he told her lowly, advancing back towards the bed. "And, by the end of it, I want you to believe me completely."

She shivered when his hands pulled back the bed sheets, exposing her completely. She held her breath when he drew a finger over the arch of her foot and began to speak slowly, telling her how much he loved how small her feet were, how lovely her little toes were. She was breathing hard when he ran his fingers delicately down her neck, breathing huskily that he loved how long and elegant it was, that it made her look like a goddess. By the time he gently breached her folds with his fingers, she was whimpering eagerly, his words proving to be more arousing than she had ever believed was possible. He carried on breathing such words to her as she rocked against the rhythm of his fingers, never stopping even when she'd reached her peak, gently lulling her into the afterglow. Once she'd recovered her senses enough, it only made sense that she should pull him towards her so that he could demonstrate properly just how much he loved her.

In the end, they were half an hour late, and everyone knew why, but neither of them minded too much.


	2. A Sight She Could Get Used To

**A/N:** Prompted by anon on Tumblr.

This one ended up fluffier just because the prompt sounded fluffier to me. Also, John has dwelled on his insecurities enough to last him several lifetimes. ;)

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_2. A Sight She Could Get Used To_

John wasn't aware of what time it was, only that it was late enough for the sun to be streaming cheerfully in through the window, lighting up the room. In their haste to rediscover each other last night, they had both completely forgotten about drawing the moth-eaten curtains shut.

Anna was still sleeping peacefully in his arms. Her hair was in disarray over the pillows, tickling at his nose. Her face was so near to him that he could close the short distance between them and kiss her with no great difficulty. Still, he resisted the temptation, contenting himself with drinking her in. It wasn't often that she got to sleep in past six in the morning. In fact, it had never happened. She deserved to sleep for as long as she wanted.

But God, she was beautiful, and so very hard to resist.

The previous night had been more incredible than he could ever have dreamed of. Everything had gone so seamlessly, so naturally. He had expected Anna to be nervous, a little shy (he himself had been, a bit), after so long apart. But she had surprised him, showing him nothing but confidence, and he had been thrilled to discover the garter that she had teased him with those long months ago.

It had been an endless night. He had teased her incessantly with his lips and his tongue and his teeth. The garter had stayed for the duration. There had been something about seeing her with her hair down and her body naked except for her garter and her smile and her wedding ring that had set him alight. He had loved every moment of making love to her, making her feel as good as he possibly could, her loud cries of pleasure enough to spur him on. He had been entranced by the way that she had gripped at the bed sheets, twisting them in her hands, the way that she'd arched her back up against him, the way that she'd allowed her hands to roam over every inch of his body, desperate to learn him. He had tried to memorise everything about her in those moments: the soft heat of her centre, enveloping him so tightly; her fingernails biting into his shoulder blades; her nipples pressed against his chest hair; the feel of her breath so hot on his face as she'd exhaled in a desperate groan. When they had finally slept, slick with sweat and exhaustion, they had held each other close, pressed together intimately, never letting go.

But now it was morning, and John needed to move. Carefully, he began to disentangle himself from his wife's arms, releasing his grip on her body so that he could unwind her arms from around his waist. She mumbled a protest, half-asleep, and he couldn't resist pressing a kiss against her forehead before he rolled onto his other side. Slowly, he planted his feet against the floor, shuddering at the cold air that hadn't warmed despite the sun. For a brief moment, he considered pulling on his clothes, then quickly dismissed it. It would take too long to bother, and propriety needn't rule in their own home, where no one else could see them. John smirked to himself a little at the thought of that, and didn't even bother pausing to pick up his shorts from the floor. He tried to navigate himself over the creaking floorboards, but winced when he trod on a particularly loud one – they hadn't lived there long enough to work out the cottage's secrets. He chanced a glance behind him to see Anna stirring more emphatically, her arms stretching out.

"John?" she mumbled drowsily, voice a little slurred, and he felt his heart swell with love. He could barely believe that all of this was _real_.

"I'm here, love," he said gently, and he watched as she rolled over woozily, her half-open eyes finding him.

"What are you doing?" she murmured. "Come back to bed."

He felt himself flush all over. He would never grow accustomed to such a notion ever being possible. Still, he couldn't stop himself from smiling as he answered. "I just need to go to the bathroom. I'll be back soon."

"Don't be too long," she said. "I can't keep the bed warm alone."

He chuckled, then hurried out of the room and along the corridor. The cottage was beautiful, even if it was still in a state of disrepair. It would be truly wonderful once they managed to clean it up a bit.

A few minutes later, he was returning to their bedroom. He expected to find Anna snoozing again – she had been half-asleep, after all – but now she was propping herself up on one elbow, facing the door, looking a little brighter. Once she caught sight of him returning, she grinned broadly.

"That's a sight I could certainly get used to, Mr. Bates," she purred at him, and all at once he remembered his state of undress. Flushing gently, he closed the door behind him. He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do. The feeling of Anna's eyes roving so unreservedly over his form brought up the twin emotions of desire and embarrassment. What was she thinking as she looked upon him? Was she seeing his flaws for the first time? Was she disgusted? He chanced a glance up into her eyes, to find that her heated stare was focused on his lower body. There was nothing but lust in her gaze, and it took his breath away. It was also beginning to affect him, too – he felt the warning twinge from low down and felt himself flush darker at the realisation that she was arousing him simply by looking at him. It made him feel so wonderful, to know that she didn't find him repulsive, that she was clearly finding his body as attractive as he found hers. He knew that he was flawed – he didn't have the body of a young man like Mr. Branson, was aware that perhaps he was still too much on the plump side despite the effects of the prison food – so knowing that Anna was looking upon him with such a licentious look in his eyes was simply indescribable.

The grin that curled the corners of Anna's mouth was both lazy and wicked.

"Well, well," she said. "It looks as if I'm about to receive a good morning gift."

Her candid words had him supressing the urge to groan, and she let her eyes slowly move up to meet his. He held her gaze heatedly, and she slowly peeled the covers back from the bed. Her body was suddenly enveloped in sunlight, and he swallowed hard. Every single part of her was suddenly deliciously on show, and his body was most _definitely_ springing to attention now.

"I'm still waiting, Mr. Bates," she said flirtatiously. "Come back to bed now."

He didn't need telling again.


End file.
